graduation

I graduated. NYU managed to mispronounce a two-letter last name and call me [Bananarchist] Ho. We were corralled in a humid hallway for an hour by a woman with a bullhorn (and a bolt gun?) telling us that once we began "processing" we would not be permitted to use the bathroom. My friend Cynthia asked why our seats didn't come with air sickness bags for the portion of the festivities that included a bombastic, self-celebrating speech by Anne Milgram, J.D. 1996, AG of New Jersey. Reena bent over a gossip magazine with a pen in hand and read an article entitled "Does Mischa Barton have CELLULITE?" intently while ignoring the procession of five million "Allez!"-hollering L.L.M.s. Sonia began or completed five rounds of telephone pictionary. Four hours later, I returned my Cap'n Gown. Arggh, matey! And then we ate cheese on sticks and drank white wine spritzers and that was the end of my life as a law student. Now what's my identity??